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Oscar takes the train back to London and starts asking around about Roby.
A person buying a book mentions that Randolph Carter had known Roby, and the next morning he can set up some time to talk to him.
Huh, wasn't that the guy Terrence talked to at the party? He seemed a bit much. But that's like 40% of his customers; he has a lot of experience in this area.
"Not at all. Same heart-achingly beautiful castles and even more heart-achingly beautiful men as ever."
It should probably comforting to find that Ruby hasn't been having these problems. That the dreams have a mundane cause, and have nothing to do with the beautiful castles and beautiful men. But-- there's a sense of being perilously alone that has lodged under his ribs. "Must have been a problem with the room then. Or I was doing something impressively wrong. But probably the room."
"Clearly you're dreaming badly, my love." She nuzzles Jing Yi's shoulder. "Do you think I can help you relax and get in a good frame of mind?"
"I'm not used to it being something I could fail so badly at!" He pets her hair. "I wouldn't say no to that plan. Truly, the best plan here is to use the scientific method to solve the problem--"
Ruby uses the scientific method very enthusiastically.
"You know," she says, sweaty and happy afterward, "if that doesn't help I do have something else."
"I've gotten into this new drug, darling, from the mysterious Orient. --Not your part of the mysterious Orient. Tibet."
...uhhuh. "I'm assuming you neither want nor need the 'please be careful' speech?"
"I will not wind up on the run from the Triads or indeed even the light jog. It's called black liao. Comes from a plant called the black lotus. The traditional mystical drug of the tcho tcho people. Apparently they use people's skulls as drinking goblets although personally I cannot imagine how that works."
"Black liao takes you to your dreams. Drink a glass of it and you'll be there. Any time you like. Even if you're not asleep."
"If, hmm, a good mindset doesn't help, it might be worth a shot." He gives 'going to his dreams', considering what they have been like lately, a 50% chance of being a HORRIBLE PLAN. 50% chance of being good though.
"It's not life-ruining, it's not opium. It's just... a lovely bit of artistic inspiration."
"Oh, yes, absolutely. I was blocked on a painting of a particular mountain range, told my lovely brother that my illness was acting up, spent an afternoon on black liao, and got the arrangement of the peaks just right."
Oh look, there is an unnuzzled Ruby here. He should fix that. "Definitely worth it, then."
"Alexander Roby. --then we got sidetracked by a different mostly impossible murder. But mostly it was Roby."
"I have no idea if you want to know about the investigations of impossible murders."
"It's not my area of interest, darling, I prefer the finer and less-- gruesome-- things in life-- Roby? The poet, Roby?"
"I was assuming as much! The poet Roby, yes, that's him. He's worse than Terrence when it comes to the King in Yellow."
Oh dear. If he was a bit more with it, he could much more easily change the topic, but he hasn't had a full night of sleep and he'd thought he'd got jaded to people being disassembled, but apparently no! "We can talk about your art, if you want? That's a much nicer topic than Roby."
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